


Dusk

by moodymarshmallow



Series: My Dear Warden [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 03:10:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodymarshmallow/pseuds/moodymarshmallow





	Dusk

“In Antiva, nobles wishing earn favor with the Crows are encouraged to throw frequent, extravagant parties, among other things. Imagine every minor Bann in Ferelden opening their castle to half the city, the entire party eyeing one another in suspicion while pretending to be delighted to see you. The intrigue is so thick that you can taste it. No one is really sure if you plan to stab them in the back or take them to bed; it is all great fun. 

The important thing is that the celebration begins at sunset. Days are too hot; nobody wants to stand around in the sweltering heat in their finest clothing, eating rich food. The nights are still warm, so it is possible to wear very little, but it cools just enough to drink and dance. Ha! Of course I dance! However, there is other entertainment available: cards, musicians, storytellers, whatever you fancy. The really successful evenings end in orgies, or someone dies, either way. You have done something right if the Crows are talking about it when the next shindig rolls around.

Despite the assassins and dreadful conversation, I think you would like the atmosphere. These are always held outside, and the richest, most prestigious estates have extensive gardens that overflow with night-blooming flowers. The buds open only when the moon rises, filling the night air with a lovely sweetness. The more expensive they are, the more colorful, and those of wealth fill their gardens with yellow and red and hire mages to illuminate the grounds. Yes, I paid that much attention to the landscaping. I’m glad you find this amusing, my sweet. 

Where was I? Ahh. When I began to do well enough with the Crows to merit reward, I was often invited to make a token appearance at these parties. As a young recruit, I was not permitted to stay, yet every single time I would manage to distract my escort and slip away. Eventually, the Crow who brought me would decide it was more trouble to find me than it would be to wait until morning when I inevitably returned. I suppose I could have ran, but I wasn’t trying to escape the Crows. The energy in those nights—everything was open and willing. I could hold all of Antiva in the palm of my hand. 

I should take you there, someday. Of course we would avoid the Crows; although I think it would be more fun if we crashed one of their little affairs. What a scandal it would be! The Hero of Ferelden and a runaway Crow, arriving in Antiva just to make a mockery of one of their elite shindigs. We would dress in whatever finery the Antivans favor now, sample the wine, indulge, and steal off into the garden to make love under the stars. By morning, we would be ghosts, leaving the entire City to wonder just how much of the story is true.

Ahh, it’s late. You’re drifting off, aren’t you? You would never actually last at one of these parties. You would sneak off after an hour or two of wine and dancing and I would find you curled up in the flowers, dreaming of the Dales.

Asleep already? You would have made a terrible Antivan, mi amor. Thank the Maker for that.”


End file.
